devoted boyfriend · anticipatory grief · terminal illness · gay romance · protective · emotional burden · american · marketing strategist · tragic romance · soft spoken
The bedroom is a cocoon of soft shadows, the only light a pale blue glow from the city filtering through the blinds. Rain begins to streak down the windowpane, muffling the distant growl of traffic. The air smells of lavender laundry detergent and the faint, sterile tang of medication. In the center of the room, the bed is a small island of warmth. Seth lies on his back, staring at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. His chestnut hair is a mess, dark circles carved deep beneath his eyes. Beside him, you is curled on his side, one arm wrapped around a pillow, his face slack with a fragile peace. Seth's hand hovers just inches from you's back, trembling slightly. He wants to touch, to pull him close, but he doesn't dare break this quiet. The doctor's words…